


Five Minutes

by bestGuesses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel (Supernatural) Dies, Character Death, Depressed Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Other, Suicide, Whump, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestGuesses/pseuds/bestGuesses
Summary: It had been five minutes since Castiel lay dead.





	Five Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR MAJOR MA J O R!! TW FOR SUICIDE AND DEATH. PLEASE STAY SAFE

It had been five minutes since Castiel lay dead. 

His wings were burnt onto the dirty floor, their previous holy grandeur diminished into ash. His blood clumped into the nearby dust, creating a maroon color that stained the ground. Dean had been on his knees the entire time since he saw the blade go through Cas’ body. He watched him collapse, the last bits of life fading from his burnt eyes. Dean held his hand tightly as the first tears fell. He had no idea when the last time he cried had been, but he knew that it had never hurt that badly.

They had  _ won _ , so why was Dean’s best friend laying lifeless?

Dean was so sure that if they had won, they’d all be able to go home. Have a few drinks in the bunker, reminisce over the close calls. Thank god that they lived to see another day. Cas couldn’t do that. He had fallen for a final time. Dean’s tears fell, dripping slowly onto his bloodied button up.

“I’m sorry,” He choked out as he began to cry silently. He kept his head ducked and his eyes shut, knowing it would only hurt worse to see Cas like that. 

At the very least, he looked peaceful.

Dean squeezed his lifeless hand, trying desperately to coax life back into his fallen angel. He shook his head, running a hand over his face and praying it was all just a dream.

It had been 20 minutes since Cas died. 

Dean hadn’t moved an inch, sobbing over Cas’ body. He only looked up to see the burnt remains of Cas’ skeletal wings. As damaged as they were, they were still  _ powerful _ . 

That power had been burnt into the ground.

Dean leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he brushed some of Cas’ hair back. He gently cupped his cheek, running his thumb over the light scruff that Cas had grown. Dean chuckled weakly, remembering how he’d always get on both Cas and Sam about shaving. 

That wouldn’t be an issue anymore.

An hour had passed since Castiel died.

Dean was still sitting silently by him. His gently stroked his thumb over the palm of Cas’ steadily cooling hand, his previous lifely color already starting to diminish. He was acutely aware that Sam was watching from the side, giving him enough space to mourn. Dean knew he couldn’t stay there forever, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. He hadn’t said  _ anything _ he needed to say.

Dean still needed to apologize.

He still needed to let him know his worth.

He still needed to let Cas know that he was so  _ desperately _ in love with him.

But he couldn’t.

So Dean settled for the silence. It wasn’t exactly like Cas could respond anyway. He took a few shaky breaths, having begun to run out of tears to cry. For that moment, at least.

A day had passed since Cas died. 

Dean couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t surprised at all, sitting in a bed that wasn’t even his own, his pants covered in drying blood and dirt. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Sam had moved Cas into the dining room, wrapping him in a sheet as he started the early preparations for the pyre. Dean eventually headed out and helped him, his expression entirely stoic. 

Soon enough, it was time to lay Cas to rest.

Dean carried his limp body outside into the cool morning air. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and Dean was emotionally exhausted. They set Cas properly on the branches as Sam looked wordlessly over to Dean. Dean took the chance to say his final goodbye, moving over and grabbing Cas’ hand. He kissed over his knuckle before stepping back.

Sam lit the flame.

The smoke towered darkly in the light sky as Dean watched. The flames licked higher in the air with every passing second before reaching their peak. He stood there for the entire three hours it took before the flame died out, unmoving. Eventually, Sam dragged him inside and to the Impala before they drove away.

A week had passed since Castiel died.

Dean was numb.

  
Sam couldn’t drag him from his room no matter how hard he tried, always finding him with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Dean didn’t move from his bed and hardly ate or drank. It killed Sam to see his brother like that, knowing that he was losing him too. Dean stared at the ceiling, praying silently to whoever was listening that he  _ needed _ Cas back.

His prayers went unanswered.

Dean mumbled to himself constantly. Begging to be able to tell Cas he loved him at least once. To see Cas again. To be with him. He’d really take anything if it meant Cas would be okay. All he got was radio silence, and he hated it.

A month had passed since Castiel died.

Dean had given up.

Sam had already started mourning. Dean was alive, sure, but he wasn’t really living. He didn’t move other than eating occasionally, a small step forward. Sam knew he was just trying to gain his strength for one thing. He often went out to get drunk or cry to whoever would listen. Sam would heal, Dean was sure of it.

One night, Dean sat down, brandishing his favorite gun. He cleaned it out before loading a single bullet into the barrel. He glanced at himself in the mirror before looking away.

Dean pulled the trigger.


End file.
